


slipping through the cracks

by happinesssdeceit (crescenttwins)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Class Differences, F/F, Forced Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenttwins/pseuds/happinesssdeceit
Summary: Camelot is too large a bounty to lay unclaimed, and as its sole heir Morgana has little freedom in romance.(No Arthur!AU)
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	slipping through the cracks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outlaw_baby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlaw_baby/gifts).



> I wasn’t too sure what “weird dom/sub power dynamics” meant from your prompt, but I definitely got "as little Arthur and Merlin as humanly possible"!! Hope you enjoy! :D

In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on a young girl. A great dragon will mutter in confusion, head trapped in a flow of a story that is long defunct because of one thing and one thing alone: there is no prince of Camelot. The story is sad but short; the king and queen of Camelot are never able to bear a child, and in their wisdom the magic users of the era do not offer the forbidden.

In their middle age, the royal couple adopts a ward: the Lady Morgana, who is beautiful and strong. She is not a princess of Camelot, but her child will be its heir. It is a concession by a king who loves his queen even after she passes from illness, that he does not take another; he honors the pact his queen crafted. The people speak of Uther's honor, of his strength of character and his control over Camelot.

But Camelot is too large a bounty to lay unclaimed, and so Morgana is inundated by requests for courtship, letters speaking of affection from faceless men. Uther does her the courtesy of pretending that she has a choice, but the pile that arrives on her desk each day is a clear enough sign: she needs to do her duty for Camelot, to give back to the kingdom that raised her. It's disgusting; Morgana has stopped reading these… tokens...long ago.

It's nothing she wants, for her womb to be on sale to the highest bidder. Because the men who write to her are twice her age; men who have established power and land and money enough to fill the royal coffers. Men who will take the title of prince if it will make their son a  _ king _ . Weeded out are the sweeter suitors, those her age, who will let her ride horses and practice with her sword. But Morgana is of age, old enough that Uther is getting impatient, and her own desires are nothing to him. 

Murmuring from her bed draws her attention away from the letters, and she pulls the gauzy curtains open to smile at the occupant within. "Did you rest well, Gwen?"

The woman in her bed looks at Morgana's grin and sits up. "I feel like I'm taunting you, napping when you've been having trouble sleeping." She presses a hand to Morgana's cheek. "Not quite appropriate behavior for a maid."

Morgana leans into the hand, reaches out to brush hair out of Gwen's face. "You are more than just my maid."

Gwen smiles at her, a small thing that doesn't reach her eyes. "I would not ask you to fight that battle against your father. Not on my behalf." She curls her fingers around the curve of Morgana's cheek, leans in for a soft kiss. "I would rather stay here for as long as you want me, and step away when the affection has cooled."

Morgana pushes her back into the pillows, presses a harder kiss to her lips. "You speak of abandoning me."

"No," Gwen says, pushing Morgana away. The taller woman watches her face, and then relents, allowing herself to be moved back into a seated position. Gwen slides out of the blankets, sitting beside Morgana so their skirts brush. "I am saying that I will stand beside you as long as you can offer me a scrap of affection. I will stay if that would make you feel better."

"I would always want you here," Morgana says, quiet.

"Then I will always be happy to serve you, no matter what happens." Gwen reaches to tug her close, bury her face in Morgana's neck. "I am yours. I always was.” A sigh, hot air over Morgana’s nape. “But you are not mine."

Morgana embraces her, pulls her in tightly enough that she imagines she can feel Gwen's heartbeat through her chest. "I wish I could be. Be yours."

Gwen laughs, and it is bitter where Morgana wishes for sweetness. "For me, it has always been you, Morgana. It has only ever been you. I have already received more than I could dare ask for."

"You shouldn't need to ask for anything," Morgana says, wishing she could clutch the maid closer to her. It feels too much like Gwen is separating away from her, preparing to vanish into the anonymous faces of the other servants.

"Oh, Morgana," Gwen says, gentle and affectionate. "That is the mentality of those in power."

The words seal Morgana's lips, because she doesn't want to argue, not when this bond feels like it's hanging by a thread. Instead she turns her face to sigh into Gwen's hair, and then releases her. 

Morgana stands, goes to her desk and picks up the pile of unopened letters. She drops them into a metal box, presses her frustration into magic, and watches them burn.

Gwen moves beside her, and they are quiet while the paper crackles into dark ash. But there is a space between them, and Morgana grows frustrated by it.

"I will be here as long as you need me, Morgana." Gwen says.

"Ha," Morgana chokes out, feelings like ash in her lungs. She wishes Gwen would be selfish. "Will you regret it, I wonder. Will you grow to curse me for making you suffer, my darling." There’s a soft touch to her palm, and Morgana grasps Gwen's hand without pause. "Will you hate me, when I share my bed with a man because Camelot needs an heir?" 

Gwen's hand is cool.

"I will adore you even then," Gwen says, "but when that happens-- when a man enters your bed, I would not dare return to it."

It makes Morgana's belly go cold. Frantic, Morgana pulls Gwen to face her. "Would that be it? Is that the extent of your affection?"

"Those who are wed share a bed," Gwen says, terrifyingly rational and gentle, "so there would never again be a space for me to lay beside you."

Morgana listens to her breath, feels something in her chest go rigid and painful. "So be it." The words are jagged, tearing up her throat as they leave her, and Morgana feels like she is losing her soul.

"Morgana?" Gwen says.

"Leave, Gwen." Morgana says, turning to her bed. "I wish to rest."

There's a pause, like the stillness before lightning crashes.

The door opens.

"As you wish, my lady. Rest well."

The door closes.

Morgana buries herself in sheets that smell like Gwen and still carry her warmth, wonders if it will be enough to banish the cold that has rooted itself in her heart.

  
  
  
  


_ (There is something Morgana does not know about the letters she burns without looking: every day, when Gwen sets them on her desk, the maid slips in a love letter of her own, full of promises to adore Morgana.  _

_ But those feelings are lost to ash, over and over again, meaningless.) _

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Femslash 2020!


End file.
